


Of These Chains

by Ariejul



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anticipation of Betrayal, Being a spy isn't easy, Charmer is worried, Deacon doesn't know what the truth is anymore, Deacon is a mess, Deep-seated paranoia, Depressing Thoughts, Distrust, Gen, Or maybe that's just paranoia, Self-Loathing, Spoilers, Survivor Guilt, The Institute is watching, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11069952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariejul/pseuds/Ariejul
Summary: A study in Deacon, and how Charmer throws his world askew.Set sometime after meeting Father.Previously titled Perfidy.





	1. Perfidy

**Author's Note:**

> Deacon's perspective is hard. He has some deep seated issues, both with himself and others, and I tried my best to convey that. This has been rewritten multiple times, and I'm still not sure how much I like it. Guess enough to post. Heh. 
> 
> There will probably be more to this at some point.
> 
> I know I've posted several stories in a short period, but I've been working on these for a long time. I finally felt comfortable enough sharing them.
> 
> Edit: I renamed this story as the original name didn't fit after adding another chapter. The new title _Of These Chains_ is the name of a song by Red that I felt fit pretty well.

_Perfidy: Deceitfulness, untrustworthiness_

Deacon doesn’t deserve Charmer. She’s never believed his bullshit and isn’t afraid to call him on it. Hell, she’s almost as good a liar as he is, but she’s just so _innocent_. It makes him think of better days, when every word he spoke wasn’t some twisted mockery. She makes him forget.

She’s dangerous, and he doesn’t know how to save himself. Or if he even wants to.

Deacon takes a deep breath, watching the fire die down. He absently stirs the wood ash with a stick, his gaze drifting over to his slumbering companion. He can see her face in the dim light, honest and open. She’s so young. God, was he any older when it all fell apart?

He looks away, guilt pooling in his gut. She _trusts_ him - _why -_  despite the lies, believes in him, and the work they do. She’s everything he’d hoped for when he discovered the Vault and learned her story. With the Institute killing her husband and kidnapping her son and the Wasteland being what it is, it was child’s play to sway her to their side. It’s almost too good to be true. He runs a hand over his scalp, grimacing against the stubble.

He hadn’t planned on her kid being the kink in his plan. He expected him to be dead, another unfortunate casualty of the Commonwealth boogeyman. It isn’t so rare a tale. But Shaun being the director of the place, fuck. He doesn’t know how to swing her back their way, isn’t sure it’s possible. Shaun’s the only family she has left in this shithole world. She would be crazy to throw that away for a bunch of strangers.

For someone like _him._

He’d gotten too comfortable, and that makes him all edges. She could sell them out to the Institute at any moment, has more than enough reason to. He expects it, sooner or later. Charmer’s a wild card he just can’t predict, and it scares the shit out of him.

A dog howls somewhere in the distance, and Charmer stirs. She’s never been a sound sleeper; he noticed that early on, when she was just another mark to tail. Every noise would wake her. It’s not a bad habit to have in the Commonwealth. He can’t remember the last time he’s slept through the night. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she yawns and meets his gaze.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” he greets with a lopsided grin. Tuck away sharp edges for later. Everything is fine. _Pretend, pretend, pretend._

“Mmm, ain’t mornin’ yet,” she drawls, voice husky with sleep. Stretching her bare arms, she slips her coat back on. “Everything been quiet?”

He absently wonders if Charmer has any idea how sexy she is. She could have any man - or woman - she wanted. Most would melt just from that voice of hers. God knows he would have… before. “Oh, had to battle a hundred synths while you were sleeping. Y’know, the usual.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” Though the words are sarcastic, the corners of her mouth still slip up into a grin. She glances at her Pip-Boy after clasping it on, checking the time. “Since I’m up, why don’t you get some sleep? I can keep watch til morning.”

Deacon considers it. He hasn’t really been sleeping much lately, and he’s sure Charmer’s noticed. It would probably do him some good; he isn’t as young as he used to be. Even so… “Nah. You go back to bed. I got this.” The Institute is watching, and Charmer is with them, and she’s going to kill them all. And he’s useless, useless, _useless._

Her brows furrow in a sure sign of concern. She walks over and sits beside him, leaning forward in an attempt to catch his gaze. “Deacon, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

He turns away, suddenly ashamed. She deserves the truth. She ought to know her partner is nothing more than a pretender, running from a past he can’t change. That being this close to _anyone – caring so much –_ is a klaxon in his head blaring _RUN._ That he’s certain she’ll betray them because her son is the Enemy. He just can’t manage to form the words. They’d come out a jumbled mess anyway.

He shakes his head. “Thinking about important stuff, boss, like how all the bugs got bigger after the bombs but not spiders. I mean, it’s _weird_.”

“Right.” Her sharp gaze studies him for a moment longer before she shrugs. “Joke all you want, but I _am_ worried. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

_How would you know?_ Her eyes are making him jittery. Searching for weakness, looking for chinks in the armor. Anything to use against him. “Gotta keep you guessing somehow. I am the suave, mysterious one, after all.” She isn’t convinced, but he doesn’t care. He fights back the urge ask when she’s gonna run to Shaun.

“I’m not going anywhere, Deacon, but you should know that already.” _Liar, liar. Pants on fire._

She looks away, and he can finally breathe. It’s difficult to hide things from Charmer, and it’s more frightening than he’d ever admit. He turns back to the fire.

Charmer sighs softly, standing up. “Just...” The hesitation in her voice attracts his attention. “I’m your partner. I’m here, if you need an ear. Just so you know.”

She wanders off to the edge of the firelight, staring into the night. No pushing. No needling for information. Just an invitation. A hand to hold if he wants. He frankly doesn’t know what to do with it. Better to reject it, slap it away, but he can’t quite manage. No one’s really cared about him in a long time. Not since Barbara. He hasn’t allowed it, jokes and lies and pretend his impenetrable wall of defense.

People are dangerous, untrustworthy. They’d quicker shoot than look at you, and he knows that from experience. But Charmer just feels different. Maybe it’s because she grew up safe, or maybe it’s just _her,_ but she gives a damn. About everyone. Even him. _Especially him,_ and he doesn’t know why _._ He certainly hasn't given her any reason to. He's tried everything he knows to keep her from getting attached. Even so, he’s been by her side since they cleared out the Switchboard, and she hasn’t asked him to leave, listens when he talks and hears what he doesn’t say. Might as well paint _WARNING_ in big bold letters on her forehead.

She’s beginning to overlap with Barbara in his memories, and Deacon doesn’t want to consider exactly what that means. Safer to push it down and away. She isn’t Barb because Barb is dead, and no one comes back from that, and isn’t it just _wrong_ that he survived when she didn’t?

A part of him wants to tell her, to confess _everything_. That he is a bigot, scum of the Commonwealth. That he killed a man who had done nothing wrong, and no matter what he does, he can never erase that blood on his hands. He doesn’t deserve where he is or to have her trust. He will pull her down, sully her, _destroy_ her if she doesn’t run.

He’ll be her death – _like Barbara, who didn’t do anything_ _wrong_ _but_ _love a murderer like him_ – and he’s too much of a coward to tell her to go. It hurts like hell to keep her, but he has to keep an eye on her. Better to see the betrayal coming than be blindsided. _Like the Switchboard, stinking of blood and death, overrun with Synths, and why couldn’t he save them?!_

She’ll run to the Institute soon enough, and it will prove everything he feels right. People are dangerous. He’s right not to trust her. _Danger_ _,_ the Klaxon yells. _Danger._

It would be easier to just kill her - _he should_ \- but Deacon doesn’t want to let that monster in again. Anything but that.

Charmer doesn’t go back to bed, merely sits with her back to him and plays with her Pip-Boy. She keeps covertly glancing his way. He tries to push his thoughts away, drawing childish pictures in the dirt. He’ll tell her. Eventually. Probably. When he can manage to talk without choking.

If he waits long enough, she’ll be gone, and he’ll never have to say a word.


	2. Saudade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmer discusses the Institute, and it all comes pouring down. 
> 
> Or Deacon isn't the only one with issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I posted the first chapter, I wasn't sure if I'd add this or not. It... didn't really go the way I meant it to. Originally, it was going to be Deacon's final confession, about the Deathclaws and Barbara. Charmer decided she'd rather make her own. I guess it all worked out.

_Saudade: The feeling of longing for something or someone that you love and which is lost._

It’s a few days later, and they’re heading back to HQ. It’s pouring rain, and Deacon can barely see Charmer just a few feet ahead of him. It puts him on edge. Anything could be out there, waiting. Even a Deathclaw could hide in this sort of weather.

They end up taking shelter in a small shack. The roof is barely hanging on, but it’s enough to get them out of the worst of the downpour. _Sitting ducks, waiting for the fox to pounce._

Charmer tosses her pack in the driest corner and stomps her feet. “Damned rain.”

“Least it ain’t rad rain.” Deacon peels off his shirt, careful of his glasses, wringing out as much of the water as he can. He watches her fuss with a half grin. He’d learned early on that Charmer forgets herself in the rain. _Hates the way it chills her. Reminds her of the Vault and how it all went wrong._

“Don’t jinx us,” she snaps, digging in her pack. “Ugh. I hate rain.”

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” He grins widely at her annoyed glare. The rain is loud, covers up the sound of footsteps. He doesn’t like it.

“Be quiet. And put your damn clothes back on. I don’t wanna see that,” she grumbles, tossing a ratty towel she’d used on her hair in his face.

Not long after they’d started traveling together, they’d gotten caught in a similar downpour. Charmer had nearly blown a blood vessel when she’d turned around to find him absently striping off his sodden clothes. It’d been a calculated move on his part to judge her reaction. He likes to prod at everyone’s tolerance levels, and she’d been a big unknown on his radar. _Flash a little skin, see if she’s easy to lead._ A dirty tactic, but sex sells. He’s used it on women – and men – before. Everyone has a motivation that can be used if you know how.

Her face, dancing between every emotion from embarrassed to angry, had been the damn funniest thing he’d seen in ages. He learned sex wasn’t something he could use on her, but he keeps trying to tease out that emotion again. She’d just looked so damned _innocent_. Deacon uses the memory whenever he needs to be reminded just how young she is. Impossibly so.

Hell, he’s old enough to be her father – _th_ _e_ _word sting_ _s, bitter in his throat_ _–_ y’know, not counting her Rip van Winkle nap.

“You _could_ join me. We’ll dance naked in the rain,” he replies huskily, using his best come hither tone. “Or maybe you’d rather have a little skin on skin contact?”

Her lips part in a little “o” of surprise, cheeks going pink before she whirls away. She’s tempted, wants to – _oh, isn’t that interesting? –_ but pushes it aside. “Nice try, pal, but it’ll take more than that to get this girl outta her clothes. I might be a lot of things, but _easy_ ain’t one of ‘em.”

“Damn,” he quips, not in the least bit serious. _Or maybe he is. He’_ _s not_ _really sure and_ _how_ _dangerous_ _a thought_ _._ He yanks his shirt back on and sighs. The rain hasn’t let up at all. If he knows Charmer, she isn’t gonna want to move until it does.

She hugs herself against the chill. As time drags on, she begins to pace, preoccupied, nearly walking into Deacon more than once. He shifts, leaning his back against the wall. He may as well not be here for all she notices, and he doesn’t know why but the thought stings. _Pay attention. It could save your ass._

“Hey, Deacon.” Her voice is soft, vulnerable.

“Yeah?” He looks up, but her back is to him. Warning bells go off in his head, louder than ever.

“I… I’ve been thinking. About the Institute. And Shaun’s offer.”

His breath catches. He’s been teetering on the precipice of this moment for ages, dreading the thought of it. Charmer’s gonna walk, give up the Railroad. She knows too much, and it’s all his fault. His throat is dry, and on instinct, he reaches for his pistol. _She’s_ _bugging out_ _. Shoot her. Shoot her!_

“I know I never really talked about my time there.” She fidgets on her feet, unaware of the war raging inside him. “I learned a lot about what they’re doing, and I…” Halting, she takes a deep breath, turning just enough for him to get a look at the agony on her face.

He drops his hand away from the gun. _What are you doing?!_ _Take her out!_

“When I left the Vault, the only thing I had was finding my baby. My little Shaun. It kept me moving when all I wanted was to lay down and die. I had all these hopes – _dreams_ – for when I found him. That we could be a _family_ again. That somehow, I could get my old life back, and this would all just be a nightmare. I never thought… it’s gone sideways. I was too late. It’s just so wrong.”

He can see now that she’s crying, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. He fights the urge to smooth it over, tell her it’s okay. Because it isn’t, and it never will be again. _She’s going. She’s walking, and why can’t you_ shoot _her?!_ Charmer is leaving and about to destroy everything he’s fought so hard for. His life is nothing but tragedy, brought on by his own hands.

Maybe this time he can at least have the decency to die along with everyone else.

“Dammit. I still love him. He’s my son. I –”

 _Stop. Just stop it._ Deacon cuts her off, unable to take anymore. “Look, I get it. He’s the last family you got. You aren’t going to just throw that away. Not for a bunch of strangers.”

“What?” Surprised confusion, and pain at his harsh words, flashes across her face. “What are you talking about? I –”

“You don’t really expect me to believe you’d give up Shaun for _us_? That’s a lot of bullshit you’re asking me to swallow.” Thunder cracks loudly overhead, punctuating his harsh tone. Charmer flinches. “And you don’t really believe the _Institute_ would just leave us alone, do you? That’s idiotic and idealistic, even for you, Charmer.”

“Deacon, you –” Her voice is low. “I’m not leaving you.”

 _H_ _ate me, run, go. I_ _was right_ _._ _I’m always right._ “Of course you are. You aren’t going to toss away the last remnant of your old life for a bunch of vagabonds.” He laughs, anger coloring the tone.

She snarls at him as he waits for it to all fall into place. “You really fucking think I’d help them just because Shaun is there? Really, Deacon? After everything we’ve been through together? I get trust isn’t your thing, but _shit_ _._ This is… it’s a whole new level of fucked up. Get it through that thick skull of yours. I. Am. _Not_. Joining. The. Institute. It’s pretty fucking sorry that you thought I would.”

Deacon’s gotten pretty competent at telling when Charmer’s lying. She has a lot of tells, if you know how to look. _Like when her jaw twitches,_ _or she_ _fiddles with her_ _hair_ _just so_ _,_ _or…_ But she isn’t. Not this time. He swallows. He doesn’t know what to say, or if he even ought to say anything. _It’s coming. Just wait. You aren’t wrong. It’s all just pretend. No one’s crazy enough to…_

Charmer gives up on waiting for an answer. “I thought teaming up meant something, but I guess… Just… just leave me the hell alone.” She tosses up her hands and stalks away, everything else – including her pack and weapon – completely forgotten.

He watches her walk off in the wet, unable to process what just happened. He’d been so sure she would walk. She owes them nothing. Shaun’s been her goal from the moment she stepped out of that Vault. She never hid that fact from anyone, and nothing could stop her from finding him, even the Institute’s own attack dog. Deacon isn’t sure he wouldn’t walk, if their places were reversed. _If that was_ her _, I’d… I’d…_

 _Let_ _Charmer_ _go. Don’t chase her. You don’t need her. It’s better this way._ And maybe it would be better. Definitely less messy. He takes a deep breath, snags their packs, and runs after her. He could follow silently, watch from a distance. It’s what he _should_ do, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore. He jogs up and grabs her arm. “Charmer.”

She whirls around, face twisted in agony, trying to jerk away from him. “Let me go, Deacon.”

He shakes his head. Anger he expected, but not this. This raw pain plain on her face is frightening. _Too real, too much. Don’t look. Don’t._ “No. It’s dangerous.”

“I know that, dammit.” Charmer tries to pull away from him again, but he refuses to let go. Her voice cracks, _shatters_ into splinters. “Please. Just let me _go._ ” _Deacon,_ she’s all but screaming, _let me_ die.

The defeat on her face is like a punch to the gut. Her lips tremble with emotion, and she finally stops trying to pull free. This type of vulnerability he’s only seen a few times and only from a distance. She’s only ever fallen apart like this alone. It feels wrong, being here like this.

“No bueno, Boss. Can’t let the Railroad’s second best agent go wandering off alone,” he murmurs softly. _You can’t._ _Not like this._

She breaks, and great heaving sobs rip from her throat. Charmer falls against him, sobbing, babbling, incoherently screaming. Her fingers twist his shirt up in fists, forehead pressed against his chest.

He doesn’t know what to do. Comforting isn’t his thing but wraps his arms around her shaking shoulders anyway. Better to get it out, let it go. His hand strokes her sopping wet hair. _Stop, you can’t. What am I doing? I shouldn’t… you shouldn’t… show me this._

She hiccups. “I… I love him so much,” she says, each word agonizing. “But I _can’t_. I can’t accept that place. What it does to people.”

He holds her tightly, wondering if maybe he _was_ wrong. Charmer breaks every rule he has. What’s one more?

“I could never… never destroy… I thought you _knew_ –” She pulls hard on the fabric of his shirt, gasping for air. Trusting him not to hurt her like it wasn’t madness. “You gave me so much. I _love_ you.”

“Shouldn’t go around telling random men you love them,” he says, trying to make light of the situation and push away the twinge those words stir in his chest. _Especially not someone like me._ “Somebody might get the wrong idea.”

Her hands tighten before she releases him. _Take a breath. You made it out. That’s right._ Breathe _._

“You’re right,” she replies, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. He watches her face close off, reforming the mask of calm she always wears. Taking her pack and gun, she turns away.

Deacon can’t shake the feeling that he said the wrong thing. _Look what happened. Did it wrong again. Stupid._

“Shaun is my son, and I love him. But he… he’s someone I don’t know. I never knew him, and I never will.” Her voice is calm and even, betraying nothing. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he’d never guess she’d just been sobbing moments before. _Just like you, building walls to keep_ _everything_ _locked away. Out of reach._ “I’m not stupid. I know how this is going to end. What I want is just… The Institute can’t win. Even if it kills me.”

He believes her, and it hurts. He doesn’t know how to stop her downward spiral. It feels too close and too real and why the hell can’t he do anything right? _You did this. It’s your fault. You brought her here, forced her to choose._

“It’s gonna be okay, Charmer. I’ll be right here beside you, long as you can stand it.” And he actually means it, for what little that is worth.

She smiles, and somehow it’s the most genuine thing he’s ever seen. “Thank you.”

It’s a long walk back to HQ, but for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel like it’s all about to explode. It isn’t exactly relaxing, but it’s something.


End file.
